Dear Santa, You Owe Me: My Grown Up Christmas List

Hey there, big guy. Long time, no talk. I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but I’ve been covering for you quite a bit here in my adult life, and frankly, it’s getting old. You get all the credit for my hard work, and as a thanks, you haven’t left me a gift in decades. I know you’re alive and well. I’ve seen you around. You like to make my kids all kinds of promises you don’t keep, thinking that a wink my way is somehow a gesture of our unspoken teamwork. That’s some bullshit. I’m sure you’re wondering how in the world you can make it up to me. Lucky for you, I have some ideas.

Take my children for a day. I don’t mean today. I don’t even mean this week. Specifically, when we are deep into the trenches of Christmas break, and I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown, save us all. I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, Santa, but I suggest subscribing to Netflix and stocking the fridge before you come pick them up. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll be bringing them home early, and Santa, I know you aren’t a quitter. Please know that I love them dearly and, if possible, I think I could love them even more after this tiny hiatus. Imagine the things I could get done, but probably won’t, while they’re with you!

A maid. Now, Santa, this may sound a little strange, but I’m going to need this to be a stranger I’ve never met and will never have to meet. If I were to hire someone we know, I’d either be cleaning beforehand so I can pretend I have my shit together, or I’d have to look at the pure horror in their face when they see what I’ve got going on around here. No one wants that, Santa, so a stranger please. I know this is the part where I should ask that you send someone who isn’t a criminal, but honestly, I’m not sure I’d notice if we lost some of this junk to theft. Maybe they need one of my four crockpots more than I do.

Plastic surgery. I know, I know. Be confident. Be content. Be comfortable in your skin, yada yada yada. All I’m sayin’ is that a couple nips and a few tucks would go a long way around here. Hell, throw in an overall lift, if you’re feelin’ generous and they do that kind of thing. I’m not really into research, so I’m going to let you dive into the possibilities and get back to me. Just know that I’ll be offended by whatever you suggest. That’s just how I roll.

A vacation. We do okay getting away for little family trips, but I’d like the next one to be on you. I haven’t decided where we’re going, but I’m not just talking travel and admission, Santa. You may choose to include an individual spa package to keep me busy while my kids enjoy some togetherness without me. Oh, and you know the overpriced concessions and bullshit gift shop trinkets my kids can’t live without? I’ll need a daily stipend for such nonsense, and some kind of flip flop allowance. I love flip flops.

A unicorn. I’ll be honest, I don’t even like animals, but I figure this one is just about as likely as anything else on this list. You’ve allowed my girls to sit on your lap and ask for a unicorn for four years in a row without any sort of redirection, so this one is for them.

Thanks a lot. I know you can’t get to all of this at once, but just keep my list handy for future years. I’ll let you know if I have anything to add. I know you won’t disappoint. Let’s not forget that I once caught you kissin’ my mama, and I never said a word, Santa. You owe me. Oh, and World Peace.

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One thought on “Dear Santa, You Owe Me: My Grown Up Christmas List”

LOL. Where were you when my kids were little? I loved Irma Bombeck, but you, funny woman, are my new best friend. No worries, I don’t bother my friends – much. I have to tell you, though, sitting on the toilet for long stretches, my doc-younger-than-my-kids tells me, will increase your risk of hemorrhoids, or (since you have three miniatures at your house already) make them worse. Having just had my assteroids removed, I also must say you must do everything in your power to avoid that trip. Merry Chrostmas…and may all your wishes come true.